Please Read First!

Okay, here's the deal: I'm kind of new at this so bear with me. Long have I been a DBZ fan and only now have I let my natural creative urges get the best of me and cause me to meddle in my favorite universe. I figured that I ought to introduce myself to the world of DBZ fanfiction with a tried and true favorite. Yes, ANOTHER Bulma-Vegeta get together story. Before you run away screaming hear me out. I know everyone thinks they've read all the permutations of this story, but everyone has their own vision. Why? Because no one really knows what happened, so our imaginations get the better of us. I decided to use this story as my first DBZ fanfiction because one, it's been kicking around in my head forever and two, because I wanted to get my vision of this rather interesting period of the DBZ story out to readers on the net. I sincerely doubt that no one has ever said what I have to say with this story before, no story is ever truly unique, but I think my version of events is interesting enough to invest some time in, and I can only say that I hope you enjoy yourselves.

You might notice a few things that may seem a bit unfamiliar in this story. Something that was neglected in the English DBZ dub (or so I am told by my friends who happen to fancy themselves to be DBZ experts) is the fact that for some period of time after Goku returned to Earth and before the androids arrived Bulma and Yaumcha were actually married. That's what my friends say at least. Anyway, I decided that might be an interesting little tidbit for a story so I popped it in. Another thing you may notice is the lack of Japanese in my story. For ease of writing and ease of reading I've decided not to inflict anyone out there with my limited knowledge of the Japanese language.

Thank you,
The Blue Sorceress

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It was early in the morning and the papers had just been taken by courier away from the Capsule Corp compound. Turning back was no longer an option. That was okay though, Bulma was sure of that at least. It was the only thing that she was sure about, though.

Six months. It had lasted six months, and really things had begun to fall apart at the end of the third month. Looking back Bulma knew that her short marriage to Yaumcha had been doomed to failure. She had wanted to settle down and start a family, and for a while it seemed like Yaumcha had wanted that too, but they weren't just settling down to start a family, they were settling for one another. Lacking anyone more suitable to marry they had picked one another and like two children, began to play house.

Things were fine for a time, but somewhere along the line the spark that had kept the two of them together for so long died. They loved each other, sure, but not with any sort of passion. It was a comfortable kind of love, and both Bulma and Yaumcha felt all together too young to be comfortable. Comfortable was for grandparents, not young
Newlyweds.

The end result was Yaumcha went out looking for the passion he was missing and found it. He was a handsome enough man, despite his scars, and he had no trouble finding a lady to share the evening with when he wanted to. Often he would get home late after a long night at a bar or club, or sometimes he wouldn't get home at all until the next day. He just hadn't been ready to be comfortable yet.

Bulma knew, of course, it was hard not to know, but in spite of that she tried to make things work. She really tried. She had never failed at anything important in her life and there was no way that she was going to admit that she had failed at marriage. At least that was what she had believed at first. After a while it began to get to her, all the sleeping around that is. It plucked at her brain like flock of hungry vultures might pluck at a rotting animal carcass. Why wasn't she enough for him? What was wrong? Finally she gave up, a hard thing for her to do. One night when Yaumcha returned home late, drunk and smelling of perfume, Bulma was waiting for him at the front door, a suitcase in hand.

She had handed him the suitcase, her eyes brimming with tears, and said "I can't take it anymore." Yaumcha wouldn't have argued even if he hadn't been utterly sozzled. He knew it was time to end it as well.

Bulma sat down at the kitchen table and leaned her head in her hands feeling completely despondent. Yaumcha had signed the divorce papers quite willingly, he hadn't even put up an argument. Now the whole process was over with save for the final filling of the papers. Bulma had the sudden urge to chase down the courier and take back the papers, then go to Yaumcha and try to reconcile things, but she knew it wouldn't do her any good. Prolonging the whole mess would just make things worse.

"You want a cup of tea, honey?"

Bulma sat up and gave her mother a wan smile. She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't even noticed her mother entering the kitchen.

Bulma's mother thrust a cup of hot tea into Bulma's hands. Apparently Bulma was getting a cup of tea whether she wanted to or not. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine, Mama," Bulma replied, sipping carefully at her tea. "I guess I'm just a little... out of it."

"Well, don't you worry, everything will be fine. You'll find someone else, someone better, and then Yaumcha will just be a fond memory." Bulma's mother was as usual, very encouraging and cheerful. She had so hoped that Bulma and Yaumcha might work out their differences, but apparently that hadn't been meant to be. Being the good mother that she was she put Bulma's wishes before her own and quietly prayed that her daughter would be all right.

"I'm sure I will, Mama," Bulma replied listlessly. She took another sip of her tea
and set the cup down on the kitchen table.

"Anyway," Bulma's mother continued briskly, trying to lighten the mood, "that's
not what I came to talk to you about. Daddy and I are going on a little vacation
tomorrow. You know how your Daddy is, dear, dead to the world most of the time, so I wanted to get him out of the house for a while."

"That's nice, Mama," Bulma said.

"Now since I'm going to be gone you're going to have to take care of things around here. You know, keep the house clean, feed the cat, and oh, make sure that nice young man eats. Dear me, the way he lives I'm surprised he is able to keep up with his training."

Bulma smiled into her teacup. "Mother, Vegeta is not a 'nice young man' he's a complete jerk."

"Oh he's not as bad as all of that," Bulma's mother argued pleasantly. "He's very nice to me."

Bulma sighed and set her teacup down again. "That's because whenever you see him you shove a pastry at him and leave. He never has the time to be a jerk."

"Well, just make sure he eats, okay? The poor dear, he works so hard."

Bulma sighed again. She knew her mother was hopeless, but honestly, couldn't the woman tell the difference between a 'nice young man' and a bad tempered spoiled brat? Bulma had no time to unload this choice sentiments though, because her mother had gotten up and left already. Feeling decidedly put off, Bulma left the kitchen, her cup of tea cradled between her two hands. Time to get to work.

Out in the spaceship that served as a gravity training chamber on the Capsule Corp lawn, Vegeta, mighty Prince of the Saiyans, was about ready to break something. Over one and a half years training in four hundred and fifty times normal gravity was getting him a lot of nothing. Well, actually it had gotten him several concussions and too many broken bones to count along with numerous other injuries, mostly minor, but he wasn't getting what he wanted, which was to become a Super Saiyan. He was at the end of his rope.

Something told him that he could train for a hundred years in a thousand times normal gravity and not get anywhere unless he figured out the key to unlocking the power of the Super Saiyan. He knew he could do it, he had to do it, but something held him back. He knew what that something was, and he tried to deny it with all his heart, but it would not be denied.

That little something, he thought to himself as he finished off a second set of ten thousand push ups, was the ability to feel anything but anger and contempt and hatred. Long before anyone else had ever given his soul up for lost, he himself had given it up for lost. There was no place for a soul in his life, it could only hold him back. Now, he thought bitterly, not being able to care was what held him back. How ironic. He had been sure for so long that there must have been another way, but over the last year, he began to realize that there wasn't. His destiny was in sight, but out of reach.

That didn't stop him though. He wasn't about to give up, not yet, not ever. If nothing else his pride drove him to keep going. To think that he failed to achieve what the idiot son of a third class warrior had achieved make the ache in his muscles and the
weariness that haunted his mind become bearable.

His stomach rumbled, begging him to take a break for food, but he ignored it and began another set of pushups.